


See My Vest

by Ventorum



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adorable, Clothing Kink, Cute, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Innocent Castiel, M/M, Schmoop, Snow, Sweet, Ugly Sweaters, Wool, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 21:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ventorum/pseuds/Ventorum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The touching had to start somewhere... Cas, a blizzard and an ugly, knitted, sweater vest. How can Dean keep away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	See My Vest

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at FFnet.

It's snowing _sideways_ outside. Dean is glad his baby is parked on the leeward side of the motel. He hears a key in the lock and then Cas sidles in, barely opening the door wide enough to slide into the room. He lets in as little biting, icy wind as possible, which is not exactly easy in a dark blue puffy jacket.

"What are you? The Michelin Man?" Dean asks. He gets up to take a closer look and brushes the snow off Cas' fleece-lined beanie. Cas stands there holding groceries in a bag and doesn't answer, probably because he has no idea who the Michelin Man is. Or maybe his mouth is frozen shut which, judging by his red nose and cheeks, is a possibility.

"Never mind. I am _never_ letting you go clothes shopping with Sam again," Dean pronounces, folding his arms.

Cas places the plastic bag of food supplies on the table, pulls off the hat, placing it on the table and unzips the jacket.

"As I have explained before, Dean, Sam let _me_ choose my clothing. I don't see why you are upset with _him_."

"That's exactly my point: He let _you_ choose - What the hell is that?"

Cas looks up from hanging his jacket on a vinyl and chrome chair. Dean's attention is caught by the multi-colored, intricately knitted sweater vest Cas incongruously wears over a long sleeved t-shirt.

Cas looks down at himself and Dean gingerly edges closer, as though Cas' bad dress sense is dangerously contagious, yet irresistible.

"It's a fairisle sweater vest," Cas supplies.

"Fairisle…" Dean repeats distractedly, wondering where Cas even finds these things. He reaches out and rubs the hem between his fingers.

"It's knitted from Shetland wool. For warmth," Cas explains while he watches Dean's hands

"Really," Dean sounds slightly sceptical, which is at odds with the mild smirk and raised eyebrow.

One hand slides up between the sweater and the t-shirt. "Oh yeah. Definitely hot under here."

Dean looks at Cas who is still focussed on Dean's hands.

Cas sounds a little self-conscious when he agrees. "Yes… I do feel hot."

Dean can't help snorting when he's given verbal ammunition like that to work with. But he doesn't follow through with his retort, because it would be like shooting fish in a barrel. Fish who don't care that you're shooting them. Stupid, appealingly earnest, dorky fish.

"Dean?"

"Hm?"

"Your hands are cold."


End file.
